


To you I swear my solemn oaths

by regulusrules



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Episode: s04e03 The Wicked Day, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29522037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regulusrules/pseuds/regulusrules
Summary: Hours before Arthur's coronation, he receives an oath from his manservant more significant than any he would have ever awaited. Problem is, the oath is followed by a revelation he never saw coming.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 551





	To you I swear my solemn oaths

It was the awaited day– the one so desired yet forsaken for the heartbreak it brought. It was the eve of a new day, a new era– one that Arthur Pendragon must lead, must take its mantle without the guidance of the only parental figure he ever had. It was the sad truth his whole life had been circulated around from start till that very moment, and Arthur could only hold onto the façade he had to wear, for no king can be seen broken on his very coronation day.

A few hours had passed ever since he got out of the room where Uther laid still and found his manservant on cold tiles, waiting for him, staying with him, even if there had never been a criterion demanding it as one of his duties. It warmed Arthur’s broken heart to no end, knowing he was not really alone after that frigid night of silence and absence. It solidified what Arthur had always thought of Merlin, even if he could only utter it in the lines of _a loyal friend._

They were back in Arthur’s princely quarters, the ones he will probably replace now that he’s the king. The familiarity of that room and his dread to leave it made him secretly sentimental of every minute he’d ever had in it, and every edge of the corners he knew by heart. Even the presence of Merlin, lingering in silence and doing his work on the far table seemed precious, and from where he stood by the window, Arthur could only sigh out the beginning of his changed existence.

Turning around to ask Merlin where he had laid down his ceremonial tunic, Arthur found the man advancing on him slowly– the pace of a confessor coming to court, or a lover seeking their beloved. It may as well have been both, for Arthur saw that specific soft look on his features: eyes glazed with emotion, brows lifted in encouragement, smile turned up with adoration; love even.

And one knee bent in fealty.

It took Arthur a moment to understand that Merlin did indeed just sink on one knee, mirroring the ideal stance of a knight presented the honour of swearing allegiance, and his mind backtracked for a moment because the image seemed too powerful, too close to what he had always wished for but never acted upon.

Knighting Merlin.

Merlin wasn’t just his servant at this point, never was if he’s to be true with himself. Merlin was closer than a friend, closer than a confidante of no differences. So many days he had wanted to demand from Merlin to ask him for a higher status in court– a position that would see his real potential and worth. But Arthur always backed down, shying away from the idea of not seeing Merlin’s eyes that seemed to emit gold upon every day he woke and saw them. He selfishly saw how cruel it was to expect Merlin to be content seeing commoners of lesser bravery than his becoming knights, while he was damned to a life of looking after Arthur. But Merlin never asked, and Arthur took that as his only comfort, for the moment Merlin would ask of anything, Arthur knew he could never deny him.

Glancing back mid-stomach where his gangly manservant lay seated, Arthur noticed a thin line of distress colouring the palette of Merlin’s face. He pondered on a way to ease that slight frown, wondering who would actually need comfort after whatever Merlin was planning to say. Having found no strength in moving, Arthur receded back to their usual banter.

“I won’t marry you, Merlin.”

Merlin laughed out his whole anxiety. 

“Not marry me, no,” he chuckled, arching his eyebrows in impishness. “Even though I _am_ practically married to your Royal Highness, and I never even got a proper proposal from you. Now that you got me thinking, your father was the one responsible for this unlawful union of no vows! Here’s to anything good I was about to–”

“Merlin.” Arthur stopped him, gently smiling, understanding Merlin’s reflex of rambling when stressed, yet heart unable to stop hammering from Merlin’s position.

“Right. Right,” the black-haired cleared his throat, easing the words he did not identify but were stuck in his innards waiting to get out anyhow. “But I am glad.” Merlin found himself blurting, chasing away the easy chatter and replacing it with heavy, solemn words. “I’m so glad your father got us both here; no unprecedented destinies involved. Just the whim decision of a man who had no idea how he’d change our entire lives.”

Merlin’s eyes drifted for a moment away, remembering the laced unspoken words of appreciating his destiny, too. The lie suddenly felt too overwhelming on his heart. Still, he did what he always had done; focused on Arthur.

He cleared his throat once again, eyes shying away slightly. “You’re about to walk those doors and swear your solemn oaths to the whole of Camelot, and in return we’ll repeat our solid wishes to your long and prosperous life, but..” he stopped, bowing his head in acknowledgement, in certainty. “I wanted to swear my own solemn oath first to you— one unguided by Uther but chosen by us.” 

He looked up to Arthur’s face that was waiting, strategising, trying to understand but failing miserably. Merlin’s eyes smiled gently, knowing he could always read his king no matter the disposition of their normal circumstances, knowing that his other side of the coin will never change.

He didn’t want him to change.

The feel of his palms touching one another in coordination, in assembly, did not surprise Merlin. He knew how it looked like– a praying stance, storing faith in the person one believed in the most. And they both knew its worth; to have that pose directed at a sovereign while on bended knees was the highest of pledges. This.. this has always been the furthest step because of how heartfelt it is– uncommon to the official knighting ceremonies, only occurring when great depth and value are needed.

And that depth and value were represented in Merlin’s few voiced words, solemn and confident as if none could dare deny it. “I solemnly swear to keep serving you. I solemnly swear there is no one I’d rather serve.”

Both Arthur and Merlin knew it sufficed to see the vower remain in that position while the king merely received the words of allegiance.

But it did not suffice, not to Arthur.

Without a second of wavering his eyes, he wrapped both of his hands around Merlin’s extended palms. The look of surprise in Merlin’s eyes was muffled from the look on Arthur’s own orbs– shone with reverence, with mutual love and respect to the man who always stood by his side without a real obligation to do so.

It was so endearing; being loved by Merlin. It was everything Arthur could never ask for. The position of their hands only spoke the reality Arthur never dared voice; Merlin enclosed within Arthur’s innards, and Arthur just looming on the surface trying to protect his core.

And Merlin’s smile widened the moment Arthur covered his hands, appreciating the return of gesture even if it was unneeded. Yet his surprised eyes spoke a different story the moment Arthur, too, bent in front of Merlin.. only shock and awe then consumed them.

And maybe a few tears tried to escape them.

“I meant what I said earlier, Merlin,” Arthur found himself saying, the haphazardry of his words coinciding with his own fallen few tears. “You’re a loyal friend. _My_ loyal friend. And even though I’m hard-hearted,” he continued, eyes focused on the only shade of blue he adored. “And behind closed doors I don’t say it, but you’re the one person I trust more than anything in this life. I hear you, I always do, even when I feign indifference. Your advice is my surety, and your presence is my comfort. You’re my world’s greatest blessing, Merlin. You’re.. you’re my lottery.”

At that moment, storytellers would say Arthur’s regality was over, faded into the crushing existence of Arthur’s void. But it felt like fire when he spoke his truth out loud, thoughtless of what has always been drilled into his mind of how a king should act. He wasn’t even crowned yet, and yet he was already disposing the direst of lessons he had received. He wasn’t even crowned yet, and yet Arthur saw how Merlin was always the flame to his fire, his rebellion against to all that didn’t make sense.

He wasn’t crowned yet, and yet for the first time Arthur felt the crown’s freedom.

Yet on the other side of the coin, Merlin felt the deepest of restraints, rendering every bone of his useless, constrained by a force he never felt more powerful: the force of Arthur’s words, and how their honesty was only met by Merlin’s lies, and how it hurt, _dear God how it hurt,_ to be on the receiving end of beautiful words like the ones Arthur had uttered while his only reciprocation was deceit.

It was no longer a matter of hiding, or a matter of life and death and destiny, but a matter of solid ground and honour-bound oaths.

But Merlin was scared. He was so scared of ruining what he literally just had, knowing that there’s nothing worse than betrayal in Arthur’s eyes. So, to be in Arthur’s hand and only retaliate in the cruellest of ways.. it was the hardest of decisions he could possibly forego.

Merlin’s tears that began to fall ever since Arthur had started talking now littered his whole cheeks, and his scared bones of being denied this tight-hold made him shuffle closer to Arthur, resting his head on their joint hands. He closed his eyes and allowed his tears to continue flowing, feeling how close they were from consuming him if Arthur decided to cast him away.

And oh, that thought.. that _image_ of Arthur’s eyes being filled with hatred instead of that heart-filling devotion.. it made Merlin’s whole body shudder, his sobs echoing around the cavernous room, prolonging the awaited. Arthur’s face was left contorted with shock, perplexed of what he could have said to elicit such an emotion. However, he only shifted closer, laying his own head softly on Merlin’s, soothing him not with words, but with warm silence.

For something inside Arthur implored him to keep quiet, to listen this time.

And something inside Merlin urged him to finally break the chain of secrets– the damning secrets aided by the devil.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Merlin breathed out, leaning his head back in the comfort of Arthur’s weight. “I’m sorry I didn’t pledge myself to you in the only way you know.. the way it should have been, bar any lies and any deceit.”

“Merlin–” Arthur began to intervene, his voice thick with confusion.

“Please, Arthur,” Merlin continued, raising his head away from the too comforting place and mustering all his courage to look at his destiny’s eyes– unfazed, unravelled, and unleaded. “Please know that my loyalty to you is too real to be denied.”

“I could never deny you, Merlin. You know I could never.” the young king responded gently, every word ringing between their bonded hands, transcending from a being to another.

“Then please believe me that I’ve wanted to tell you ever since I knew I’d live for you.”

And there it was, the soft silence mirroring the time they both needed in order to process the utter words of orphic devotion ever spoken. Arthur looked at Merlin appreciatively, acceptingly, for nothing Merlin could hide would remove the truth in his tone. Gently, Arthur continued whisperingly, “Tell me what?”

And Merlin, knowing there was no return, no hiding away anymore, looked straight at Arthur instead of hiding the change of his colour and the change of nature between them.

_“Fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme.”_

Arthur never felt fear so quickly. The intensity of what he had gone through the previous day was incomparable to what he had started feeling. In less than an instant, his caring stance was disentangled from Merlin, retreating far away from the veracity colouring his vision. Reflexively even, Arthur reached for his hip where his sword always laid, but remembering where he was and who he was with allowed his reflexes to retreat, and he held the solid bedpost behind him instead to stop himself from crumbling.

He could never attack Merlin. He only let his guard down when _with Merlin._ Merlin was never a threat.

Or was he?

_Magic._

_Merlin has magic._

How was that even possible? Merlin did not know how to be tarnished even if he wanted to. The possibility of it all being a scheme invaded his mind for a moment, but what would the previous words of sanctity mean then?

**_Magic._**

**_Merlin has magic._ **

Could Arthur have been so blind not to be able to see what was right in Merlin’s eyes all this time? Was it even just now, or has it always been there? Arthur allowed his eyes to venture down to the magic he hadn’t given himself a chance to look at after he saw the golden rims flowing with what he knew was the source of all his miseries. Yet, when his eyes fell on what Merlin had conjured, his eyes widened and shied back even more than physically possible.

It was the same blue orb of light that had saved him so many years ago– the one he attributed his survival and gratitude to.

“You,” Arthur breathed heavily. “You’ve had magic all this time.”

“And I use it for you, Arthur,” Merlin instantaneously replied, not even thinking of his words, not even trying to save himself some grace. It was just pure truth pouring out of his core, waiting and always waiting to be said. “Only for you.”

“Magic, Merlin?” he cried out, scared and riled and pained. “The weapon that killed my father not a day before?”

“Magic did not kill your father, Arthur,” the young warlock hurried in explaining, getting up from his knees and taking a few careful steps towards his king. He couldn’t bear it if Arthur flinched away again. “Magic healed your father, but it’s Morgana’s hatred that killed him.”

“You weren’t there, Merlin. You didn’t _see._ The instant the magic of that old sorcerer processed within my father’s body he died!”

“No, Arthur,” Merlin whispered fearfully for the first time. “I was there.”

The colour within Arthur’s already pale face completely disappeared, and only shock could be then read on his face. Shock, bordering on the deepest of betrayals kept on being reflected on Arthur’s face, and Merlin literally couldn’t stand it any longer. “Arthur–” he began as he took a few close steps to Arthur but was interrupted with the hand that stood in his way, preventing him from moving any further.

“Stay right where you are.” the king ordered, his voice thick with commandment and oh if Merlin thought the earlier flinch was bad, now his heart couldn’t tolerate that utter stab of ultimate pain.

“I _healed_ your father, Arthur. I wouldn’t have gone to these lengths if I had intended to harm him from the beginning.”

“Leave me.” Arthur ordered, as if nothing was just said, as if he never really listened.

“No, I won’t,” Merlin resisted, heart beating fiercely but knowing it was now or never. This was the point of no return. “I won’t leave you thinking I broke your heart.”

His tears continued to roll in rhythm as he tried to control them, looking at his only friend’s destroyed face. All emotions ranged on Arthur’s features, and Merlin prayed and prayed that his mind would allow him to word everything as it is, fearing rejection and fearing the permanent existence of these betrayed looks he was receiving. “Think, Arthur,” he began. “If I really wanted your father dead then why do you think I wouldn’t have tried to kill him anytime in all of these years, or even just allowed his avengers to succeed? Why would you think I would stop _you_ from killing him, even if he was lying to your face and taunting every truth in life there is? Why else, if not for the fact that I could never break your heart, Arthur, not even if my _life_ depended on it.. not even if the whole world _asked_ for it.”

He stopped, and his voice stopped its shredded sounds with it. “I knew,” he began finalising. “God, I knew how much you loved him and looked up to him even if he was treating you in a way you’ve never deserved. I knew his death would break you over, and all I’ve ever wanted was to be the healer of your broken cracks.”

“You said you listened..” Merlin continued, taking a few more steps towards his silent king. He prayed the inches between them were decreasing not just in length. “Arthur, you said you listened to me, even when you feigned indifference. So please,” and he stopped, his eyes watering even more than before, thinking of how he could be losing everything now. “Please don’t stop now.”

Silence retook control of the room, both of them unable to process all of what had happened. It seemed like the end of the road, specifically for Merlin. He could not begrudge Arthur for the turmoil going on inside of him, for Merlin himself felt troubled from all what he had to reveal, and yet he could not fathom the thought of Arthur away from his life. Fear of death from Uther’s age seemed incomparable to his fear of losing Arthur now.

But he could not imagine anything else, for more lies would pertain prolonging the inevitable, and who knows under what circumstances he would have to tell Arthur his secret then. At least now Merlin could see the cogs in Arthur’s brain spinning, giving everything an ounce of reasoning. At least now was a moment of trust; one that both knew wouldn’t dare taint with lies.

At least now Merlin was as bare as Arthur.

“Why, Merlin?” the king’s voice shattered, broken from all its edges. Was that his fate, ever and forever? To be retaliated upon with the cruellest of possibilities, the cruellest of truths? “Why you?”

“I was born to be by your side,” Merlin replied as he got close enough to lightly touch Arthur’s shoulder. “Always to protect you, to guide you until the moment you become the greatest king to ever grace the earth.”

“So that’s it?” Arthur remarked, eyes bitter and empty. “Some destiny forcing you to be here? Some _mission_ to succeed?”

“Arthur,” Merlin finally murmured. _“You_ are my mission– the one destiny I chose to devote my life for.”

And without the hesitation of the first time, Merlin looked straight into Arthur’s eyes, allowing him to see and observe every upcoming tinge of magic circling his eyes. Easily, elementally, he brandished his right arm in the direction of the table, letting the words of magic flow and for Arthur to look right through them and deny them if he so willed.

“ _Onbregdan_.”

Arthur’s sword flew right into Merlin’s grip- familiar and intimate with his hands just as they were with Arthur’s. All tracks of thought had ceased, and in that moment only remained a wonder of the upcoming.. of the unravelling of events.

Slowly, very slowly, Merlin inched closer, and his left hand that was yet on Arthur’s arm ventured down to hold Arthur’s hands instead, arching them even closer to hold the handle of the whipped sword between them. And it seemed clear all of a sudden, for why would Merlin position the end of Arthur’s sword directly upon his heart while letting go himself if not to send the clearest message?

_I am yours._

And he spoke them. Merlin spoke them, sincerity filling every letter of these words. “I am yours, Arthur. Yours to kill, and yours to love. Yours to swear my allegiances to. Hence, here and now I swear I will not intervene if this will bring you peace, for I only seek your peace, and could only remain alive when in it.”

And that was the break of the spell.. the beginning of the truly new era– one of magic and might united. It would still take ages until Arthur fully grasps the hang of his changed life, and reciprocate the depth of Merlin's devotion to him. Still, at that moment and there, when Arthur vehemently threw the sword miles away from them and Merlin leaned into Arthur’s arms to hug him like they never did before, he could not, for the life of him, reject it. For a few moments he stood unchanging, unwilling to let go of his fear, but Merlin’s presence could always deter him from what he thought was right to what was actually right. He felt the hammering of Merlin’s heart so close to his chest, just a few seconds away from death if Arthur so willed, and wasn’t that what Merlin was all about; the balanced edge between life and death to Arthur?

For the first time he allowed himself to be put in Merlin’s situation, seeing how speaking up beforehand would have been met with his father's flames. How even now, Arthur was projecting his own flames, burning hotter and higher than any normal fire would. He saw Merlin’s strength to come and lay it all down, even after Arthur had pulled his sword on him just the day before, thinking he was his father’s murderer. He saw how Merlin hadn’t deterred even just moments before, when Arthur reached for a sword he wouldn’t have used.

For it was always about trust to Merlin; Arthur could now see it. Even if he hadn’t relayed his whole secretive existence before, Arthur understood it was not out of a lack of trust. And although Arthur hadn’t been let onto the whole truth yet, he knew the soul of his holder would never purposefully hurt him. He knew it from Merlin’s oaths, and from Merlin’s steadily tightening embrace.

He knew it because no matter how hurting that reveal was, he knew that he, too, would never purposefully hurt Merlin. It was written in his insides as much as they were displayed in his slow return of the embrace, quietly falling into his only pillar of strength. He hugged him until he felt Merlin’s grounding presence the only thing holding him together, solidifying their presence now and then. He hugged him until their tears coalesced within one another, forming a halo of misty fragility and yet of newfound might. He hugged and hugged Merlin until their hug became the truth.

The only truth that mattered.

“To you,” Arthur finally heard quiet mumbling in his neck, and the arms wrapped around him left no space for insincere imagery. “To you I swear my solemn oaths.”

Arthur believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> First Merlin fic; would love to know your thoughts! •ᴗ•


End file.
